Art of Masturbating
by WizMonCruWil
Summary: When Katniss catches Peeta doing something very compromising, how will she respond? Will she uphold her promise to not grow attached to Peeta? Or will her and Peeta's actions lead to something more between them? Read to find out! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: Eyes Burned

**Chapter 1: Eyes Burned**

I scowl as I tug at the ruffles of my blue Reaping dress, stomping along in the dirt towards home. I have never worn this dress after hunting or while making a delivery. But Mother insists that in bringing the Mayor of District 12 a prize turkey for the annual Thanksgiving feast, I need to at least make myself presentable. If I could work my will, I would never have to wear this dress to anything outside of the Reaping for the Hunger Games one day every summer. But, growing up as poor as I have in the Seam, this dress is the nicest article of clothing I own.

I am over the Town-Seam line now, and just passing the district dump more commonly known as the Slag Heap. It has built up a legendary status as the place where young teenagers my age go to have a good fuck. You wouldn't catch me dead in there though, never mind in such a compromising position. I am never going to get married, and I am especially never going to have children who will just turn into dead tributes. This reminder makes me pick up my pace a little, and I have nearly crossed beyond the open gate, when I hear:

"Ohhhh... Mmmmm... Oh God..."

I scoff. Some horny boy and girl are in there already, and it's only late in the morning! Odds are good that they aren't using any kind of protection - when I wasn't of the mind to skip Family Planning class, I at least learned the basics. No condoms or contraceptives means some Seam girl getting knocked up, more often than not by an arrogant Town boy. But very few people in Twelve can afford these kind of preventives. Mother only can because she is the district Healer, so she has ready access to the supplies sent to her fresh from the Capitol. I am just about to keep stomping for home, when I hear the boy moan again:

"Uhhhhhh... Katniss..."

I freeze, my eyes bulging. Whoever is fucking in there just said _my name_. Which leads me to wonder what poor girl is underneath him, having to hear her lover moan some other girl's name? I can't detect any feminine sounds to indicate a second young teenager is in there. What is more... I _know_ that moan. It may seem odd, but I _know_ the voice that is making that moan.

I should leave it alone. But my curiosity, and indignation as to who would _dare_ to say my name during sex has me creep into the Slag Heap, and peer cautiously around a mound of trash.

I freeze, my mouth hanging open at the sight before me. A young boy with ashy blond hair and deep blue eyes is staring up towards the clouds. His pants are down to his ankles, and I can see... Oh God... his... _dick_ hanging out! It is engorged, the head an angry red and one of his big, calloused hands is stroking it madly. I have never seen a man's penis before. The sight of the organ fills me with a strange curiosity, even if the action to which it is attached repulses me. As I watch, unseen by him, the Baker's youngest son groans a name on his lips. _My_ name:

"Ohhhhh please... _Katniss_..."

I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle a sound of horror. Peeta Mellark is masturbating to me. _Me!_ How horrible! How _disgusting_!

At last, Peeta screams a little too loudly, "Katniss!" and I watch in revulsion as juices spurt forth and coat his member. His muscled body wilts like a flower in summertime as he rides his orgasm out to the fantasy of me in his head.

I don't wait for him to zip up his pants or become aware of my presence. I run out of the Slag Heap, my eyes stinging with tears, wanting to throw up.

I am traumatized. Peeta Mellark, my classmate in school to whom I have never spoken, just jacked off to me. _Me_! Which means he clearly must want me. A boy wants to have me in his bed. I can't imagine why. For one thing, I feel I am not in the least bit pretty. My breasts are tiny, and I am mostly skin-and-bones, despite the marginally better nutrition that my family and I receive from my hunts. Primrose, my little sister, is the real beauty of the family, having inherited the Merchant blond hair and blue eyes from our mother. Many boys in the Seam will want to marry her, when she comes of age... if I don't shoot them all first. Prim is the one person in this whole world whom I am certain I love.

Which brings me back to the topic of Peeta. If he _wants_ me... wants me sexually... does that mean he is in... _love_ with me? _Surely not_ , I dismiss the possibility almost in terror, not liking how it seems to make my heart speed up. Besides, many Town boys have a reputation for lusting after and seducing Seam girls, before discarding them like trash after a baby results, or their bigoted parents make them stay within their class. Sometimes, it's both. No, wanting someone and loving someone are two very different things. Mutually exclusive. And Peeta Mellark is most definitely _not_ in love with me. He just... wants me.

That any boy would want me at all makes me heat with an indignant rage. And so I decide that I will confront Peeta Mellark about his sexual fascination with me. We shall see if he is so eager to have my name on his lips and tongue after that!


	2. Chapter 2: Hack Job

**Chapter 2: Hack Job**

I return into Town and approach the Mellark Bakery that very evening. The streets are deserted, with most families indoors for their dinner meal. Good. I don't want to make a scene in front of the neighbors.

Approaching via the alley leading to the back loading dock, where I often trade squirrels with Peeta's father, the Baker, I angrily and with purpose rap on the door. I hope against hope that his mother does not answer. The Baker's wife is a Witch and is rumored to be abusive towards her family. Whenever she and I have interacted, we have never gotten along.

Thankfully, the young man who I want to see answers. He blinks in surprise when he sees me, and appears even more weary once he judges how angry I look.

"Good evening, Katniss..."

"Do you want me?" I demand, getting right to the point.

His impossibly blue eyes annoyingly blink. I am steamed at how he already dares to act so innocent. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Peeta nearly chokes on his tongue. "Katniss!"

"Don't play naive! I saw you! I _heard_ you! Crying out my name in the Slag Heap while jerking on your... _thing_!" I spit, flustered at being unable to say the actual offending word.

Peeta has the good sense to look terrified. He has been found out, and he knows it, too. "Katniss..." he tries to begin, closing his mouth to gather his thoughts before opening it again. "Yes, Katniss. I love you."

I shake my head, my lips in a tight frown. "That's not what I asked." I step forward menacingly. "Do. You. _Want_. Me? To fuck?"

"I want you _and_ I love you!" Peeta confesses, and for a moment, I wonder how long he has been wanting to say those words to me. I shake my head to clear it.

"No, you don't. You don't love me." _He can't love me_ , I think. _I won't let him!_ It is my greatest fear: to love someone and be loved in return, especially in a romantic sense. "You're just all hot for me because I look like I could give you a good, hard screw! All Town boys want that. A man has needs." I am not so gullible and innocent as others make me out to be, Gale in particular. He has always teased me for being too pure.

Peeta looks furtively about the alleyway. He mumbles something about how thank goodness his parents are not here right now - at least, I think that's what he says. All the same, he hisses low as he pleads, "I am not like those other boys, Katniss! I want to be with you! In every way!"

I have had just about enough of his lies. "Pull your pants down," I order.

He gapes at me, not moving. I sigh, twirling a finger in the air to prompt. "Turn around." Slowly, he obeys, and begins to undo his belt and buttons. He throws it all down, and I briefly note how he wears boxers before he literally flashes me. Now, I have seen what a man's bare ass looks like. Wrapping my arms about him from behind, I grasp his rapidly swelling manhood in a vice-like grip and hiss in his ear:

"When I'm through with you, you'll _never_ want me again!" And then I begin to stroke him.

It takes me a minute to get a firm grip around his girth, but once I do, I manage to stroke and rub and squeeze him without his member fumbling away from me. From over his shoulder, I watch my fingers run deftly up and down his shaft, the foreskin sliding up and down over the reddened head. I barely note how Peeta has leaned back into my body with each passing fondle, his eyes wide as saucers, his breath coming in moans and labored pants.

"Fuck, Katniss! Touch me! Just like that!" His legs begin to tremble, the backs of his thighs knocking against my knees.

With each passing second, I find my anger beginning to melt away. What takes its place instead is a strange yearning. To my surprise, I discover that I don't just want this from Peeta. I want something _else_ from him too. As he leans back into me, I sag into him. My center - which I am startled to find has suddenly flooded with wet dampness, staining my underwear - grinds into his bare buttocks. My breasts jiggle and hump and slide along his back. My head lolling to one side, my eyes flutter shut and my mouth falls into a wide _'O'_ , as I rub my entire body up against his. I am stimulating myself with his body.

Peeta's entire frame suddenly seizes against me. "KATNISS!" I feel a sticky coat of... substance paint my palm, as Peeta ejaculates, cums all over my hand and himself. His hard stalk gradually droops, becoming soft and pliant once more. Releasing him, I audaciously lick my fingers clean. Then, cupping Peeta's cheek, I turn his face to mine and gallingly devour his lips in a brazen, fiery kiss. I want him to taste himself on my tongue.

After a long moment, I break away. Forgetting myself, my goals and why I came here in the first place, I suddenly hike up my skirts, the hem of my blue dress. I force Peeta to his knees, and shimmy my panties down to my ankles, so he is eye-level with the hairy curls of my wet folds.

"I want you to taste me," I gasp. "Touch me. Please."

There is a moment where there is nothing, just the cool evening wind tickling my exposed folds. But then -

I gasp, yelp airily as I feel Peeta take my clit and nub into his mouth. He quickly proves himself a natural at knowing just what I like, where I want him to eat me. The bundle of nerves comes to life, alights, under his lips, and I buck and thrust my pelvis out with every nibble, slapping his face with my slick vagina. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and my jaw goes slack in amazement, as I moan like a Capitol whore. Adoring how it feels to have his mouth on me. Admitting how, once or twice when I have touched myself in my bed at night, that I have imagined him and his tongue doing this to me. Pleasuring me.

"Ummmm... Hmmmmm... Mmmmmm... UHHHHH! OHHHHH! Oh... oh my goodness... oh please... fuck, fuck, motherfucker! YES!"

My spread knees, my legs, wobble almost as violently as Peeta's did moments ago. I stiffen as I cry out, "PEETA!" and blast my juices all over his face. He delicately and patiently laps up every last drop of what I give him, licking down even the inside of my thighs, my thighs which now feel like jelly.

Slowly, Peeta rises, smiling in astonished admiration. "What a dirty little mouth you have!" he marvels. "I might just have to kiss it off!" And he does before I can object, his tongue parting my lips and slipping down my throat. I purr in approval as I dare to kiss him back. "Hmmmm..."

When we break the kiss at last, I only then realize how Peeta's pants are still comically pooled around his feet. Wordlessly, I redress him, looking almost contemplatively as I tuck his shirt back into his pants.

"Next time, let's give each other a warning beforehand."

Peeta gazes in wonder at me. "Next time...?"

I raise my eyes to his. "Next time we do this," I say flatly, my expression serious and practical and no-nonsense. "You'll know when it happens." I dare to peck his lips goodbye. "Thank you," I breathe almost stupidly. Then, I turn and flee out of the alleyway for home, ignoring the sheen of blood dripping down my calves and straining the dirt.

I just had my first experience of oral sex! And I... _liked_ it! I find myself wondering, with a small smile, how much Peeta likes anal.


End file.
